


Your Worship

by sootsprites



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootsprites/pseuds/sootsprites
Summary: Titles are tricky things
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet, Josephine Montilyet/Female Trevelyan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Your Worship

[ Posted by sootspritesprinkle](https://sootspritesprinkles.tumblr.com) _Your Worship…_

Each time they say it, Seph’s throat closes up. The vitriol she used to spill at her cousin about the damned chantry sisters with their simpering smiles and their empty blessings, how if Andraste would let thousands of mages be locked in dying castles then what _good_ was she, surely The Maker had never loved _her-_

But she can’t bring herself to deny them either. The best Seph could ever do when asked was to shrug and say, “Well, anything is possible I suppose.”

_Your Worship._

Seph wakes in a cold sweat, dreams of green ruins and floating islands mixing with memories of her mother’s harsh recitation of the chant and that dark cold night where the water almost snuffed her out instead of the magic. Seph had always wondered how else that could’ve ended, if the leeches had worked instead, if her father hadn’t lost his nerve and pulled his shivering daughter back onto the dock, if Tamra hadn’t encouraged her dreaming.

_Blessed are they who stand before  
_ _The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._

Words meant to bring comfort, but every time they reach her ears, Seph cringes. “Am I the one the champions of the just are beating back?” She whispers to herself in the night, tears in her eyes. 

_Your Worship!_

They stare as she passes, Seph pretends it doesn’t make her shiver. They murmur her name in low tones, is it respect in their voices or fear, or both? They kneel, bow their heads to her, raise their voices in song exalting her name, and Seph’s stomach lurches, it’s all she can do not to scream.

Josephine finds her one night, sobbing on the stairs leading to her new quarters ( _scout to the north,_ Solas had told her, _there is a place that waits for a force to hold it._ It was a gift, Seph knew it, this was his gift to them, so that the Inquisition may finally grow into what they were always meant to be - _a reckoning_ ) and Seph cannot even gasp out what the trouble is, even as Josephine clucks like a sister and wraps her arms around the taller woman.

“My Lady Herald,” Josephine’s voice is like honeyed tea, smooth and soothing. “What is troubling you so?”

“Don’t-” Seph chokes out, feeling hot tears drip down her face. “Don’t call me that, please Josephine.”

“Lady Trevelyan, then.” Josephine smooths down Seph’s hair and hums some Antivan song until what seems like hours later when Seph gets her breathing under control.

Seph wipes at her face roughly, wishing for poise, wishing for strength, wishing to Andraste that anyone other than the lovely ambassador had found her going to pieces; but her muttered apologies were met with soft laughter and a kind smile.

“The fault is mine my lady,” Josephine told her, “You are under a great deal of pressure, I should have foreseen-”

“No no Josephine don’t fuss you sound like-” Seph cut off suddenly, her eyes swimming, seeing the empty place the conclave left in all of them. “Just don’t,” she whispered. 

Josephine watches her try to pull herself together, the woman of not yet 25 years with the burden of a nation laid across her shoulders.To be quite honest Seph isn’t really sure there’s much Josephine could do to ease the burden, even if Seph were to ask her, which she couldn’t consider doing. This role had been given to her, the responsibility was hers. The Montilyets never shirked their family duty, and maybe that wasn’t true for all Trevelyans, but it was going to be true for this one.

But she wished…

“Josephine, could you do something for me,” Seph finally finally stands, wiping her eyes for the last time (tonight, anyway).

“Name it my Lady.” Josephine stands with her, and Seph almost immediately misses the warmth of the lovely Antivan’s arms. 

_Focus_. “Can I ask you to call me Seph? When we’re not, well we’re just at the war table or in your office, could you-”

It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Josephine might have blushed. “Well,” she waffled, “I do not wish to impose, We have only known each other a short while-”

“It’s no imposition if I’m asking,” Seph smiles wanly, “It’s something my- my brother used to call me that.”

Josephine doesn’t ask about her stumble and Seph loves her for it. “It’s the least I could do to make you feel more at home.” When Josephine smiles at her, Seph feels her heart beat out of her chest and knows she’s doomed.

_Your Worship._ On Krem’s lips it’s a fond joke. _Boss._ Bull says it with an affectionate smile. _My Dear._ Perhaps coming from Vivienne, its an insult, but a kinder one Seph has never heard.

_Seph._ When Ben said it, it was a joke, a nickname, a rebuke, a person oh so different that her mother’s sheltered Seraphina. When Ben said it, it was a freedom.

_Seph_. On Josephine’s lips, her name is a love song.

**Author's Note:**

> I 100% forgot I wrote this until like, half an hour ago. Josephine is the best person in the world, obviously


End file.
